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Most civil cases never see the inside of a courtroom. They’re settled, mediated, or resolved quietly after a few rounds of negotiation. But every now and then, a case offers a sharp reminder that the rules of civil procedure are not suggestions—they are the foundation of fairness.
Over the past year, I’ve been involved in a series of defamation lawsuits. They’ve attracted some attention because of the personalities involved and because I’ve chosen to represent myself pro se. But the real story is not about me or my opponents. It’s about what happens when litigants forget that courtrooms don’t operate like social media feeds.
Most cases are not like mine. In a typical dispute, both sides have counsel, deadlines are met, discovery moves along, and the matter is resolved without drama. What’s unusual in my litigation is that some defendants treated the courtroom as if it were just another Facebook thread. Deadlines came and went without filings. Requests for admission went unanswered or were openly conceded. Statements that would normally be contested were doubled down on, even after discovery confirmed they were false. (Pro tip: if you’re accused of defamation, “Yeah, I said it, and I’d say it again” is not a winning legal strategy.)
And here’s the kicker: in several of these cases, the defendants weren’t fumbling around pro se — they were represented by experienced counsel. Yet the same deadlines were missed, the same responses were ignored, and the same consequences followed. Judges don’t grade on a curve. If you blow the deadline, even with counsel, that’s on you.
Indiana’s rules don’t bend for that kind of conduct. Trial Rule 56(C) sets clear deadlines for responding to summary judgment motions and designating admissible evidence. When those deadlines are missed, the case doesn’t stop and wait—the non-moving party waives their right to contest the evidence. Our appellate courts have been crystal clear on this point. In HomEq Servicing Corp. v. Baker (2008), the Indiana Supreme Court held that silence in the face of summary judgment is waiver. In Smith v. Johnston (1999), the Court reminded us that “mere neglect, without more, is not excusable.” Other cases reinforce the same theme: miscalculating a deadline, being too busy, or simply overlooking a filing does not qualify as “excusable neglect” under Trial Rule 6(B).
Those principles may sound technical, but they safeguard the integrity of the system. Deadlines ensure that cases move forward, that evidence is tested in an orderly fashion, and that litigants are treated equally. If one side can blow through deadlines without consequence, the other side is unfairly prejudiced. And if the court indulges delay after delay, justice grinds to a halt.
The practical consequence is that some of my opponents are facing liability not because of who they are, but because they failed to respect the rules. The law presumes damages in cases of defamation per se, and when defendants admit they made the statements, admit they stood by them, and admit they had no evidence to back them up, the record speaks for itself. The courts don’t need theatrics—they just need the paperwork.
For the broader legal community, the lesson is both simple and reassuring. The rules still work. Indiana’s courts continue to enforce them, even when one party is unrepresented. Lawyers and judges across the state have told me they’re watching these cases with interest, not because they expect the same fact pattern to repeat in their own practice, but because they appreciate seeing the system reinforce its own integrity.
There’s an old saying that “hard cases make bad law.” But sometimes bad conduct makes clear law. These cases are unusual. They are not templates for how every lawsuit plays out, and most litigants will never find themselves in such a position. Still, they serve as a reminder: law is serious business. Deadlines matter. Evidence matters. Respect for the process matters. Or, to put it more bluntly: court isn’t Twitter. You don’t get extra points for posting loud; you get judged by whether you filed on time.
That is not a lesson limited to my litigation—it is a lesson for the entire bar.•
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Abdul-Hakim Shabazz is an attorney, radio talk show host and political commentator, college professor and stand-up comedian. Send comments to [email protected].
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